


A Title She Could Be Proud Of

by agirlnamedtruth



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Abuse, Humiliation, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Non Consensual, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Character, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-14
Updated: 2012-06-14
Packaged: 2017-11-07 18:28:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/pseuds/agirlnamedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since that first day in the court, in front of all those people, Sansa had been called into Joffrey’s room and forced to her knees at least once a week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Title She Could Be Proud Of

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the warnings. This was written for [Hurt/Comfort Bingo](http://hc-bingo.livejournal.com) and may be triggering. This story contains underage characters however there is no actual penetrative sex involved (inappropriate touching at most).

Sansa could feel the tears burning hot on her skin as they ran down her cheeks. It made him smile when she cried so she didn’t bother to hide them.

Since that first day in the court, in front of all those people, she’d been called into Joffrey’s room and forced to her knees at least once a week. 

Sometimes it was just him and all she’d have to do was kneel there, simpering while he talked about all the things he’d do to her when they were married. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she itched to ask him _why don’t you have the balls enough to do them now and get them over with?_.

Other times though, they weren’t alone. Ever since his uncle’s misguided gift, he’d make his Hound sneak away to the brothels for him and pick him up a couple of whores. Never less than two, he didn’t dare touch them himself. 

He’d place them on the bed and make her kneel far enough away that she could still see them perfectly. He’d make them hit each other and writhe against each other, a graphic show of sex and violence. The first time she turned her head away in shame only for Joffrey to grab her hair and twist her head back so she had to look. She couldn’t help but think _a little shaper, a little more to the left, my love, and it will all be over._

“Look at them!” He shouted loud in her ear. “That’s what you are, a filthy, traitor whore. What are you?”

She shook her head, refusing to say it. He tightened his hand in her hair and with the other one he slapped her across the cheek, an action that didn’t even hurt anymore, it had happened too often.

“Say it or I’ll put you up there.” He threatened, pointing up at the girls almost dramatically.

“I’m a filthy, traitor whore.” She said in a monotone, knowing as soon as she said it that it wouldn’t be good enough.

“Properly! Like you mean it!”

“I’m a filthy TRAITOR whore!” She screamed at him, making the word traitor stand out because that would be the one title she’d be proud to wear.

“Good.” He said with that infuriatingly smug smile he had. “And whose traitor whore are you?”

“Yours.” She said, not even resisting this time.

“Yes, you are.” He nodded and finally let go of her hair, returning his attention to the girls.

That still wasn’t the worst. There’d be times when he was really bored and feeling limitlessly cruel. He’d call in the King’s guard, or whatever knights there were, or if all else failed, he’d drag in people off the street. He’d push her into the middle of the room and declare her _entertainment_. 

He’d have them rip off her dress, always boasting that he would buy her another. He’d say they could do whatever they wanted to her as long as she was still _innocent_ at the end of it. They’d pass her round, almost throwing her from one man to the next, laughing when she’d lose her footing and fall. Their hands would slip under her torn dress, pawing at her newly formed breasts and pushing their hands against her cunt, always against, never inside and then pressing against her in return.

Eventually Joffrey would grow jealous of their fun and order them all out, making her kneel at his feet beg before they left.

“You’ve behaved like a common whore tonight, Sansa. Is that any way to treat your betrothed?” He’d ask and her mind would fill with scorn, biting back _is this any way to treat **your** betrothed?_

“No, your grace.” She said aloud.

“Tell me you’re sorry.” He commanded, glancing up at the knights who had all fallen silent, not sure if this was still a game and whether they were meant to laugh or not.

“I’m sorry.” She said, her voice laced with anger and sarcasm.

“That’s not sorry enough.” He kicked the side of her thigh, the smile on his face meant to look playful but the blow landed hard and fresh tears welled in her eyes, making it easier for her to sound sorry.

“I’m so sorry, King Joffrey, please forgive me. I didn’t mean to act like a whore. I love only you.” Her tears made her sound hysterical and she was glad, she’d rather the words sounded mad than having to make them sound honest.

“Very well, you are forgiven, _my love_.” He said, with a laugh. He brought his hand up to her cheek, making her flinch but he was only making a show of catching her tears.

She wished, like she did every night like this, that she’d moved quicker when she’d thought to push him to his death.


End file.
